


To My Beloved

by tardisfalls



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Dorks in Love, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Multi, Requited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 22:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisfalls/pseuds/tardisfalls
Summary: Rafael over complicates a love letter meant for you for Valentines Day.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Reader, Rafael Barba/You
Kudos: 9





	To My Beloved

**Author's Note:**

> follow my tumblr: metachorism :)

Rafael tapped his pen against the pad of paper, his top teeth softly biting onto his bottom lip with a concentrated stare to the lined rectangles of the pad.

A love letter shouldn’t of been this hard to write.

The act itself was a reminder of an elementary school Valentine’s Day gift—writing confessions of day-old love to someone and then getting a kiss on the cheek. The comparison made the lawyer think about the act twice before using his break time to do something like this.

Crumpled sheets of paper had been discarded on his floor, missing the tin trashcan below his desk, failed attempts of writing something that didn’t sound corny or written by a cheesy chick-flick filmmaker. He thought about writing your imperfections and then saying how he thought despite it all you were perfect to him.

But that would most likely get him a cold shoulder. Or a slap in the face.

There was so much about you Rafael loved and yet he hadn’t been able to say it once—biting his tongue when you got a new partner, flaunting the flowers you received. Biting it even harder when you were dumped everytime and you went into a honeymoon phase of sadness—but this year, on Valentine’s Day, Rafael Barba was going to tell you that he loved you.

His tongue stuck out from his lips as he wrote a sentence that sounded great in his head, but as he wrote it out, it didn’t sound good on paper. He sighed with frustration, ripping the page from the pad and crumpling it—throwing it on the floor with its other failed attempts.

 _How_ was writing a love letter this hard? How did Victorian-era people do this so _fluently_?

The problem was that Rafael loved you too much, so much so that you don’t have to love him back. His heart ached thinking about you, you were often part of his daydreams. Your smile was the shine that brightened his life, your eyes globes of hope and determination for a future that could be filled with love and peace for all. A laugh so unique, so _you_ , that had been his favourite song for so long—your voice a melody he savored. You had turned his life upside down and he wanted to be dangling from the ceiling with you. You had brought all _sorts_ of new bursting colors into his perspective—

Oh.

That was it.

It been so obvious, this love letter, on what he had to write. Rafael Barba was one to have to think on his feet, work harder than anyone else ever has and complicate things for a result that would only ever end up used correctly in court.

This was a _love letter_ —not a question tree.

Rafael started writing and this time he knew what he was going to say.

—-

Duty called twenty minutes after Rafael had finished his letter and tidied his work space—dashing off to the 16th precinct with the letter sealed inside a red envelope with your name written on it in bold.

The plan was to slide it on your desk when you weren’t looking.

“Good work, Detective.” Rafael praised you as you exit the interrogation room, his signature lopsided smirk edging on his lips. You narrowed your eyes at his sudden change of heart (earlier in the day, he had snapped at anyone who done something wrong)—he wasn’t being sarcastic, he sounded genuine.

“Who are you and what have you done with Barba?”

You’re response is an awkward silence. So much for friendly banter with this man.

“I’m joking, you dork. Thank you. I drilled her for hours, I’m so tired.” You return the smile, your hand coming up to pat him on his brachium. “You’re clear to go in, her lawyers in there with her.”

Rafael nods (his Adams apple bobs as he swallows hard at your gentle touch) and makes his way past you, his cologne whiffing through your nostrils—strong, as if he had put it on in the last few seconds. Was he trying to impress someone?

A red envelope drops from his figure as he enters the room, he hadn’t noticed but you did. As you picked it up, you noticed that your name was scribbled on it in neat cursive writing, a love heart at the end of it.

Inside, a white folded up piece of paper that you open without any hesitation. And what was written inside made the world stop for the time it took you to read it.

It was from Rafael, signed at the bottom. _Love, Rafael_.

He wrote you the most kindest paragraphs, filled with beautiful of words. He told you that you were perfect in every way, he loved your flaws hat made you different from others, your determination and perseverance. Rafael wrote to you like an old Victorian lover—a Romeo to his Juliet (minus the death part).

Most of all, he loved _you_.

Your heart began thumping and the urge to jump up and down and squeal like a teenager meeting their celebrity crush almost overcame you—so a wide, toothy grin took place and you held the letter to your chest tight.

He loved you! Rafael Barba, the man who you’ve tried getting over for months by dating people not worth your time, loved you! He went out of his way to write you a love-letter, too!

You felt like royalty, pure royalty.

Barba emerged from the interrogation room after giving the woman inside a deal. Now ready to leave the precinct and slip that letter (that felt like it was burning a hole through his suit jacket) on your desk as he left.

But he doesn’t even get three feet away from the door when you launch yourself at him. You hug him, as tight as you could, perching your chin on his shoulder and inhaling his scent. He almost tumbled backwards with the force you had launched yourself at him with, but caught himself by holding onto you.

“You should’ve told me earlier,” you sigh into his shoulder, “So I didn’t have to spend months trying to find someone like you.”

Rafael felt the feeling of confusion, where was all of this coming from? Why were you suddenly giddy and excited? And _why_ were you hugging him?

“What?” He asks you.

“Your letter?” You pull back from the hug you put on him, giving some distance so you could see his face.

His hand is now on his suit jacket, expecting to feel the propelling edge of the letter extrude from the pocket he had put it in. It isn’t there. You notice his worry straight away, bringing the letter to his eyesight.

“I read it. It had my name on it and.. curiosity killed the cat.” But despite this, your smile comes back from its temporary vacation and it’s for him. Only him. “I thought it was sweet.”

“I _was_ meant to leave it on your desk.” Rafael’s hand drops from groping the jacket he wore, his sly and sweet grin returning, without noticing, his fingers and tenderly stroking up and down your arm. You hug him again, this time less urgent than before and he wastes no time and hugs you back—closing those green eyes you love so much.

He had imagined holding you before, how warm you would feel and how soft your skin would be.

You were better than how he had imagined you.

“I love you too.”


End file.
